Hero
by SorrowsFlower
Summary: Because heroes aren't supposed to let the people they care for get hurt. *CloTi oneshot, in-game. Companion piece to kitsune13's 'First Steps'*


Hiya!

Okay, so this fic is a companion piece to _First Steps_, a wonderful little CloTi oneshot from the drabble folder, _For Their Own Good_-- both by the ever-talented **kitsune13** (who was too nice to bug me about hurrying up and finishing this one). 'First Steps' is in Tifa's POV, and mine is in Cloud's... I actually started writing this months ago, but writer's block and a crazy schedule kept me from finishing it...

You can read this on its own, but I do recommend that you read this in one tab and 'First Steps' in another, like I usually do when reading companion pieces; it makes more sense and you get to know what both Cloud and Tifa are thinking in the same situation at the same time :D

Hope you like it!

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Final Fantasy or any of its characters.

* * *

He hated shopping.

Cloud Strife fidgeted with his sword handle as he waited patiently for his companion. Aeris was humming a cheery little tune as she placed things in her basket.

Why in the Planet's name had he agreed to go shopping with her?

What was it with women --particularly Aeris-- and shopping? He just couldn't fathom how women could move from stand to stand, from shop to shop for hours just to look for bargains and discounts and debate with shopkeepers about the quality of their goods.

He'd already agreed to go shopping with the flower girl once, and look how that turned out: he had been emasculated by being chosen to be Don Corneo's 'wife'. Afterward, of course, he had taken an immense amount of pleasure in taking that dress --damn its maker to the deepest pits of hell-- and burning it until nothing was left but a smoldering pile of ash... but that wasn't really the point. The point was:

He really should have known by now.

But how could he have known that taking Aeris shopping for supplies would include him being forced to wait for four hours outside shops because they didn't allow weapons inside, while she haggled with prices and peeked out every now and then, asking which one he thought would go better with Tifa's hair, the black ribbon or the red one? (Frankly, he couldn't see what difference it made since Tifa's hair seemed just fine to him the way it was, but he chose the red one because it reminded him of her eyes).

His good intentions of protecting Aeris in case something happened had ended up with him --though he would never admit it, much less let it show in his expression-- being bored out of his skull and trying to yawn without moving his face too much.

He should have stayed with Tifa. She had seemed a little more tired than usual after their last fight and though he was sure he had cast Cure, he found himself wondering if something was wrong... Maybe all this running around was taking its toll on her. Tifa was tougher than most, both physically and emotionally, but everyone got hurt every once in a while, didn't they?

The thought of Tifa getting hurt made his stomach clench. He was supposed to take care of her. He was supposed to be her hero, wasn't he? There were some things in his memories he wasn't quite sure about and stuff that didn't add up when it was supposed to, but of that he was absolutely sure. And heroes weren't supposed to allow the people under their protection to get hurt.

"Okay!" Aeris' voice chirped sweetly beside him. "I think that's all of it! We're having stuffed bread for dinner, by the way. Is that okay?"

Cloud made a small noise to indicate his assent. He wasn't particularly hungry, but Tifa and the others might be.

He rubbed absently at the back of his head. Tifa was losing a bit of weight lately. Not much, but enough that he'd noticed. It probably had something to do with the fact that she ate less so that the others could have more. That was a familiar pattern with Tifa: she was always denying herself things for other people's sakes. She was far too selfless for her own good.

He was going to have to talk to her about that.

Aeris kept a steady stream of chatter all the way back to the inn, but he didn't mind. Her voice was light and cheerful and nice and Cloud was content to listen to the sound of it.

It wasn't like Tifa's voice. Tifa's voice was quiet and it made him think of smoke and silk together. Her voice was always a little sad, making Cloud want to reach out and take her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right. Sometimes, when he looked accidentally at Aeris when they were talking, that sad little note would deepen and her voice would grow softer or she would stop talking altogether and smile that brave smile of hers that never seemed to reach her eyes.

Cloud hated it when that happened.

By the time they got to the inn they were staying at, it was already dark and there was a bit of a chill in the wind. The door to their rented room was open and Cloud could see that it was already occupied.

He stepped inside and saw Tifa asleep on the third bed, the one closest to the window. She was curled up in a fetal position on the bed, cocooned under the blankets. Even sleeping, her face wasn't as relaxed as it should have been. There was a little wrinkle between her eyebrows and her lips were parted on unsteady breaths. Her long hair was spread out on the pillow, rippling like a river of dark silk as she moved her head.

She seemed to be having a nightmare.

"Tifa." Cloud bent down closer to her so he could wake her. As he did, he caught a whiff of clean-smelling soap on her skin and some kind of floral fragrance on her hair. Combined with the scent that was uniquely Tifa's, the smell was sweet and calming and oddly inviting.

Stopping his thoughts before they wandered down a different direction, he touched her shoulder and gave it a few light nudges. He was unwilling to wake her, but it had been hours since they last ate and he wanted to make sure she ate every last piece of the bread roll he was holding. She needed proper nourishment and he was going to make sure her giving nature didn't get in the way of that.

"Let her sleep, Cloud. She's obviously exhausted." Aeris chided as she came in. The flower girl kept her voice soft so as not to wake Tifa and she held a finger to her lips as Barret came into the room about to open his mouth to make noise. The giant of a man clapped his hand over his mouth when he saw Tifa sleeping and sat down on one of the beds. The strange creature they'd picked up at the Shinra building --Red XIII-- padded in silently after him and settled on the wooden floor, his one glinting eye surveying them watchfully.

Cloud made a small negating noise in the back of his throat at Aeris' chiding and shook Tifa's shoulder lightly again. "She can go back to sleep after we've talked... Come on, Tifa. You need to wake up now."

On the bed, Tifa gave a drawn-out sigh and waved a dismissive hand at him, obviously unwilling to wake despite her nightmare. He waited a moment more and finally her eyes opened, thick lashes fluttering to reveal the sleep-blurred, wine-colored orbs behind them.

"I'm up," Tifa shifted on the bed and Cloud was just about to back away so she could get up when he heard her give a surprised hiss.

Her hand reached down beneath the blanket to touch something, and the look on her face was so pained, it nearly stopped his heart. As she moved, a slightly damp, coppery scent followed her. The smell met his nostrils and his hand fisted on the sheet. His blood turning cold, Cloud jerked the blanket off her, careful not to jostle her too much.

The pristine sheets were stained with dark red, and for a second, his brain didn't register why. Then he saw that Tifa's hand was gripping a towel wrapped around her thigh. The towel was soaked with blood.

_Tifa's blood._

For a second, his entire body went numb as he stared at the blood-soaked towel on her thigh. Then it slowly sank in.

First came the terror. It gripped his chest and clawed at his consciousness: Tifa was hurt. Tifa was bleeding.

Visions of a younger Tifa sprawled on the ground with her chest slashed open came to him and his numb brain wasn't entirely sure where it came from --all he knew was that it terrified him. It terrified him to see Tifa bleeding. It wasn't right. It went against everything he knew. It was just... it terrified him, and the intensity of that terror terrified him as well.

It didn't make sense, and he desperately needed something that made sense right now. So he latched onto whatever came after the terror.

Anger.

No, not just anger. Pure, unreasonable, inexplicable fury.

Some part of him wondered why he should be furious, and who exactly he was furious at: Tifa, who hadn't come to him when she was so clearly hurt? Or himself, who had had let Tifa be hurt in the first place when he should have been protecting her like a real hero would? Or maybe both?

He didn't know, but the fury was easier to handle than the terror. It was more familiar than mind-numbing fear and it didn't make him feel helpless and ashamed of himself, so he clung to it, allowing it to anchor him in the present so he could do what needed to be done. He needed --_needed_-- to take care of Tifa. And he didn't want anyone else to do it. He would _not_ allow anyone else to do it.

"Out."

Cloud didn't turn to the others, instead keeping his attention focused on Tifa, holding himself stiffly as though the slightest movement he made might hurt her. She tried to get up from the bed, clearly intending to go as well. He shook his head and laid a hand on her shoulder, gently but firmly pushing her back down onto the sheets. "Not you... Everyone else. Out. _Now_."

Aerith complied immediately, as though sensing the barely restrained fury in his tone. Red XIII disappeared after her, his animal instincts telling him it would be dangerous to anger Cloud any further. Barret, who had been unusually quiet the entire time, opened his mouth to protest, but Cloud turned to him with a glare-- and for once, he was glad the mako made his eyes glow. The dangerous glint it gave his eyes told Barret that he could pummel the huge man --gun-arm and all-- with one hand and that he would do so if Barret crossed him in his current mood. Besides, Barret knew that he, Cloud, would never hurt Tifa --intentionally, at least-- and his resistance had been born mostly out of the superficial dislike he usually displayed for the ex-SOLDIER. The other man went and shut the door behind him.

Once they were gone, Cloud immediately set to work, tossing his pack and the bread he'd been holding onto the other bed. He turned his back to the girl on the bed beside his and tried to keep his murderous expression under control. He dug into his pack until he found what he had been looking for.

Behind him, he could hear Tifa shifting restlessly. When he turned back to her, he saw that she was sitting up at the edge of her bed. Impatiently, he held her good thigh down to stop her fidgeting.

"What's going --" Tifa stopped talking the moment his hand touched her exposed skin and she gave a little squeak, her hands automatically wrapping around his wrist to push him off. He ignored it and kept his hand there, partly to stop her from moving and partly because he liked the feel of her warmth even through his leather glove. It made the nerve endings on his palm tingle a little, and he found that despite the gravity of the situation they were in, he quite enjoyed the sensation.

She made another little noise that sounded a bit like a whimper and he tried to look at her, but found that he couldn't. The combination of fear and anger and shame kept him from meeting her eyes.

Her blood was smeared all over the sheets and he felt sick just looking at it. He was never queasy at the sight of blood --hell, he spilled it most of the time with his sword when he was fighting-- but seeing _Tifa's_ blood, the liquid that flowed through her body and kept her alive... it was enough to make his own blood freeze with terror and boil with rage at the same time.

She was fidgeting again, trying to free herself from him. Her obvious reluctance to have him help her made the fury flare up again. But that was good. The fury, the anger kept him sane. He fit his hand behind the knee of her injured leg and kept a firm hold on her. She gave an almost inaudible gasp and clutched at his shoulder, probably wanting to push him away again.

"Cloud--"

"Were you just going to bleed out while you slept?" Even though the fury was making his blood pound in his ears, he forced his tone to remain low --but that didn't stop some of the anger from seeping into his voice. The pressure on his shoulder increased, but she wasn't really pushing at him. Just keeping him at a distance. And he didn't like it.

"No -!" Tifa shifted under him and her voice held a note of panic and a hint of breathlessness. He tightened his grip on her leg, cupping it gently but firmly with one hand. It felt... _right_, somehow. Like it belonged there.

Holding her leg carefully, he knelt in front of her, still avoiding her eyes. For some reason, she blushed fiercely and Cloud watched in fascination as her skin turned a delicate shade of pink. For one insane second, he wanted to take off his glove so he could feel if the skin on her leg was as soft and smooth as it looked--

Forcing himself to focus, he released her good thigh and slowly unwound the towel she had bound to the other one. Her leg gave a little tremble and he tightened his fingers around it to steady her.

"It's nothing--" she insisted, wriggling away from him.

Nothing? She had bled through the towel and onto the sheets, and it was 'nothing'? He frowned as he carefully peeled the towel off her thigh. "Just a cut--"

The towel stuck to a part of the wound because of dried blood and Cloud eased it off, peeling gently so it wouldn't hurt her. But the small whimper she gave said it did, and his heart gave a responding jerk against his ribs.

He flicked a glare at her. Why the hell did she insist on downplaying it when they both knew she was in pain? And why the hell couldn't she just accept his help?

"How long were you going to ignore this?" he growled as he examined the wound, his fingers gliding carefully over the skin surrounding it to make sure it hadn't been affected. Even through his gloves, Cloud could feel the smoothness of her skin and her warmth seeped through the leather. The tingle he had felt earlier began to feel more like a buzzing and it hummed beneath the skin of his hands. His palms clenched a little of their own accord, almost aching to make contact with the smooth surface they were sliding across.

With a gasp, Tifa jerked her leg away from his hands. "Stop it. Let go!"

For a moment, Cloud almost winced. Her adamant refusal to have him take care of her stung.

_Why?!_

Why wouldn't she let him take care of her? Was it because he was the one who had let her get hurt in the first place...? It was true, he _had_ let her get hurt. He was supposed to take care of her, but here she was, bleeding out on the bed.

Some hero he was.

His insides twisted with shame, and the fury he had felt earlier left him in a rush. With its absence, the terror came flooding back, and he felt helpless against its onslaught.

Despite her attempts to pull away from him, Cloud didn't let go of her. Tifa was the only one who kept him sane, the one link he had to a past that he still hadn't completely figured out, the only one who seemed to know who he really was... And if she left, if something happened to her, if he let go, all of those things would come crashing down on him and he'd be even more helpless than he was now. So he didn't let go of her.

"Cloud, please," her voice was weaker, more plaintive now, little more than a whimper. "It's nothing."

And just like that, he broke. He tucked his chin to his chest, not wanting to meet her gaze, and let one hand hover in the air above her wound while the other cupped her leg just behind her knee. His thumb smoothed over her skin and when he spoke, his voice broke a little on her name.

"Tifa... You're bleeding."

Every strange, inexplicable emotion he had felt in the past half hour --the terror, the anger, the shame-- injected itself into his voice, taking a little bit of his soul and throwing it out there for Tifa to see... and what was surprising was that he wasn't ashamed of that or even afraid of it, of revealing a small part of himself to Tifa. Instead, he felt... somewhat relieved. Like a huge weight had been lifted off him. Which didn't make sense when he thought about it, but the relief was far better than the whirlwind of emotions she had put him through.

He heard her inhale quietly and she stopped moving at the change in his tone. He avoided her gaze, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. For a long moment, they were both silent and he wondered what Tifa was thinking but he was too scared to ask.

"Cloud..." Tifa's voice was soft when she spoke and he felt her breath ruffle his hair gently.

When she touched him, her hand resting lightly on his head, he felt himself tremble at the feel of her long, slender fingers against his hair. Her touch was soothing and it calmed the terror and the fury and washed away the shame. He found himself craving more of her touch and leaned against her palm. She responded by stroking his hair in a feather-like caress. It felt... like what heaven must feel like.

Unconsciously, his hand tightened just a little on her leg. Such soft skin. He couldn't resist letting his gloved fingers slide across it, just to feel her.

"I'm alright. I was going to ask someone to fix it, but I was so tired," Tifa's voice was just as soothing as her touch. "... I didn't mean to scare you."

Cloud said nothing. Of course she hadn't meant to scare him. She was too nice and thoughtful to inflict something like that on another person. But she had. She had terrified him out of his wits, and for a moment, he was a teenager again, seeing her cut down by the greatest SOLDIER the Planet had ever known.

"I can't--I can't see you bleeding, Tifa. I just..." The terror welled in him again for one numbing second, choking the words out of him. "... can't see you lying there with blood on you. Not again..."

His voice trailed off and he looked up at her. Tifa's hand was rubbing the white cloth over her chest. For a moment, he stopped, imagining the scar Sephiroth must have left on her body, an angry red line marring perfect flesh. The image burned itself into his brain, and he had to look away for a second. His eyes met hers and saw that the crimson orbs were wide and confused and held a slight fear in them. It made him remember how he had acted in front of her because of the terror and the fury.

He must have scared her.

"Sorry," he kept his voice low, contrite. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just--"

He heaved a sigh because he didn't know how he could explain his earlier behavior. Taking her hand, he rubbed his thumb over knuckles that had seen and endured so much fighting, yet seemed to be vulnerable and fragile at the same time. Breakable. There were so many ways a person could break and Tifa, however tough or strong she was, was still subject to those same risks. She'd nearly been broken once. And it scared him that she could be broken again.

It didn't help that she was constantly in battle and in danger, and her own hero couldn't protect her.

He had to-- He had to be stronger. For her. So she wouldn't get hurt and break. And strange as it sounded, he needed it too, needed to make sure she was alright, for the sake of his own sanity. Because if he had to go through all that he'd experienced in the past half hour every time she got hurt, he'd go crazy.

"Cloud?"

He steeled himself and met her eyes. Those eyes that were red and brown and so deep that Cloud thought he might drown happily in them if he stared into their depths long enough.

Their gazes locked for a long moment before Tifa smiled, the beautiful heart-deep, eye-sparkling smile that only showed itself whenever they were alone together. Cloud liked to think that it was his own private smile, and that she never smiled like that for anyone else. It was a lovely smile, and Cloud liked it much better than the smiles-that-never-reach-her-eyes kind.

"Will you take care of me?" Tifa asked, her voice soft and just a little bit shy. "Please?"

For a moment, it felt to Cloud like he'd just been given an honor. Tifa always gave help, but she rarely asked for it. And she never, _ever_ asked anyone to take care of her. Sure, she'd asked him to rescue her if ever she was in a bind. But that was different from asking him to take care of her. Because taking care of her meant something more... intimate than just coming to her rescue. It meant being gentle and protective and careful, and he wasn't sure how to do it because he hadn't had to take care of anything in a long time.

But then, taking care of the damsel did seem to fit the job description of a hero, and Tifa was looking at him with a look of such utter trust and confidence in her eyes that he knew he wouldn't be able to say no to her.

Cloud lowered his eyes and hand to her leg again and examined her wound with a methodical efficiency that masked his slight uncertainty. It didn't help that her skin was soft and smooth and smelled good, making him want to run his hands all over her and... And he should probably stop now before he did something that wasn't really part of 'taking care' of her.

"I knew I cast Cure after our last fight, but it looks like that last monster left one of its claw quills in you," he remarked, trying to refocus his attention on the task at hand. "Do you trust me to pull it out, or do you want me to get Aeris?" Cloud gave her the choice, even though he was secretly hoping she wouldn't ask for Aeris. He was rewarded by her immediate reponse.

"You."

The complete lack of hesitance or trepidation in her voice did something to him. It felt... good, knowing that Tifa trusted him --_him_, Cloud Strife-- out of all the members of their funny little group, even Aerith with her healing skills, to do this for her. He allowed himself the tiniest of smiles before turning his attention back to her wound.

Tucked just underneath a slit on otherwise unblemished skin was the end of a long, narrow claw quill. He felt it carefully, and it seemed intact. One of his hands gripped her thigh as a warning and the other gripped the end of the quill. Tifa's hand on his shoulder tightened as he tugged on it. The quill dislodged and he slid it out carefully until he was sure that none of it remained under Tifa's skin.

"It's not broken," Cloud assured her as he held the quill up for her to see. "We got it all out."

Tifa nodded and he set the quill aside before taking the materia he'd retrieved earlier from his bag and calling up a Cure spell. Under his watchful stare, the wound began to grow smaller and smaller until the only evidence left that there had even been a wound in the first place was dried blood matted across pearl-smooth skin. Cloud wiped it off with the towel and checked Tifa's leg for any other injuries, trying to keep his movements as small as possible so as not to disturb her.

"Hmmmn..." The contented sound slipped past slightly parted lips and Cloud looked up.

Tifa had gone almost boneless under him, probably from a mixture of exhaustion, drowsiness and the Cure spell. Her eyes were half-lidded and a little glassy as she looked down at him. Cloud thought he heard her sigh as his fingers spread over her skin, and the breathy sound of pleasure caused a small shiver to go down his spine.

Now that there was no more injury and no one else around to distract him, his heightened senses became more aware of Tifa and her proximity. Her hair spilled around them, creating rivulets of dark silk over the edge of the bed and flowed fluidly near his hands. Its scent, which he had thought calming earlier, now filled his nostrils and made his gut ache with a strange kind of longing, and he wanted to bury his nose in that river of dark silk and drown in her forever.

Her skin beneath his hand seemed even warmer, almost flushed, and he ran his palms over her thigh again, feeling the buzzing sensation under his own skin increase. She relaxed even further under him, taut muscles softening and melting like wax when placed near a flame. Another unconscious sound of pleasure escaped her and she leaned forward.

It would be so easy... _so easy_ to reach up, take her hand and pull her to him, just so he could find out how her body would feel like pressed against his. She wouldn't protest; she was half out of it with the effects of the Cure spell and she looked just about ready to pass out. He could take off his gloves and finally, finally feel the softness of skin that seemed almost luminescent under the moonlight coming through the window, and--

Without warning, Tifa suddenly jumped like a startled rabbit and jerked her leg away from him. Cloud looked up, half his mind still caught up in the sensory overload she was subjecting him to. Her eyes widened for some reason as they met his and her cheeks turned scarlet.

"Um... I'm okay now," she stammered, face red, and her voice snapped him out of his haze. "I--thanks... I-- thank you, Cloud."

Cloud cleared his throat and once again assumed his strictly-business air. It seemed a bit incongruous after all that had happened, but what else was there to do but move on? "Yeah. It was nothing."

He gave her leg what he told himself was a friendly pat, but his hand was so reluctant to part from her thigh that he almost had to physically wrench himself away from her. It didn't help that she chose that moment to say "Thank you, anyway" in that low, soft voice of hers that always reminded him of silk and smoke at the same time.

With a curt nod as the only response to her words, he turned around and began gathering up the stuff he'd used and packing them away. Behind him, he could hear Tifa getting up to test her leg. On the other bed, Cloud spotted the bread roll he'd planned on giving her. He wiped his hands off and took the roll, offering it to her.

"It was supposed to be for you," he explained before turning away quickly. Would she notice that he had saved this roll especially for her because he knew she'd always liked that kind of stuffing when they were kids? It made him sound a little like a stalker, but then again, he'd always noticed those kinds of things, especially since it concerned her.

Behind him, Tifa was silent, and to cover up his awkwardness, he began stripping the stained sheets off her bed and bundling them with the towel she'd used. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, until Cloud felt her hand gently touch his arm. The touch of bare skin on bare skin sent shocks running down his arm and made the fine hairs there rise. He looked around at her and found her eyes gazing softly at him.

"I'll go get new ones," she smiled and gestured toward the sheets he held in one hand. Her smile was warm and genuine, immediately dispelling his earlier awkwardness. "I'll tell everyone else they can come back too."

Cloud nodded and relinquished the stained bundle of cloth over to her, glad that moment had passed, but still a bit regretful it had. He turned back to the bed and began arranging it out of habit. "Tell Barret if he snores again tonight, I'm making him sleep in the hallway."

Tifa was stifling a smile as she turned to the door, he could tell. As she began to leave, he found his voice and stopped her.

"Tifa."

She turned and met his eyes. For a moment, he just looked at her. She looked ethereal, bathed in the golden light of the lamp and the silver light from the moon. Beautiful. Every inch the damsel they spoke of in the fairy tales, in their promise, even if this damsel did have scraped knuckles and was tough enough to take on monsters and other stuff fate threw at her.

"I want you to come to me from now on. When you get hurt."

The smile she had been holding back earlier flitted around the edges of her mouth until the corners of her lips bowed upwards, and she nodded, her next words wrapping around his chest with a warm squeeze. "Yes, I will."

And it was only after she left, closing the door behind her and leaving him in the privacy of the room, that he allowed himself to finally smile.

* * *

A/N: I love CloTi, I love 'First Steps', and I wanted to do both justice, but seriously... that was the suckiest title-and-summary I ever came up with. Ugh. I'm in a creative drought and my mind is stagnating --please help! Send reviews! They are like water to me!


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